Fall to Pieces
by Orokid
Summary: The break up between a couple meant for one another, all because he doesn't want to see her die. His last action to push her away finally leaves him in heartache...


**Orokid**_: Yeah… I didn't even think about putting lyrics into this fanfiction, as well as name it after the song I was using, until I was completely done with writing the fanfic. Odd, I know, but that's just the way I work. Lol. Anyway…_

_Like usual, this is depressing, and, like the things I've been writing recently, this has major angst. So… yeah. Depressing stuff in Harry's third person point of view (been working on that in a class I'm in; Lol), and it probably won't end the way people want it to- but that's why I wrote it and NOT you guys, right?_

_Besides, I'm in a semi-depressing mood (remembering a break-up to write this ruddy thing sucks!)- thus, the fanfic. Most of this story had been written the day after my muse had occurred, so you can probably tell where it starts getting to a point that I stopped remembering what had exactly happened, so… yeah…_

_On to the disclaimer, right? Right._

**Disclaimer**_: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter- meaning, I do not own the original characters that are mentioned in the JK Rowling books are not mine. What I possibly do own is my muse and any character that doesn't make sense, so… that's it really. Meh sad now… ((Cries))_

**Fall To Pieces**

He didn't want it to happen, but he knew with his heart that it was better this way than any other. She'd be happier this way, even though her heart may break for a little bit and she might attempt to do something she had promised him endlessly not to do. She'd be happier, even if he couldn't ever meet her eye from this point to the end of their lives.

She'd be happier without him, no matter how much she'd cry, and he just wasn't going to give in to her tears. He knew the truth behind it all, because he knew that the future, which knew as well as his own hand, wasn't too good a sight. Especially for things like this, between a man and a woman, between lovers who cared too much for their other half. All he knew was that it'd be safer- for her heart and health- if he did the one thing that he'd regret his entire life.

He can still remember the scent of her tears, the tremble in her voice, the way she had tried so hard to stay strong when all she wanted was to break down, when he had said that she'd be better without him. His heart remembered how broken he had made himself feel by doing this for her, from watching the hurt in her eyes as tears did nothing but leak behind her defenses, and how she had broken down completely when she tried to tell him "I love you". His memories recalled how his arms ached to hold her right then, to tell her that he had been joking about the entire thing. He wanted to tell her that he wanted to tease her, and that it all had been a cruel, cruel joke.

He wanted to say that he loved her more than life itself, but he couldn't. It hurt to lose her, after this whole time that they had been fighting to be together, but it was destined this way. No one had wanted them together anyway, and they had been all the more surprised to find them holding hands and loving one another so freely after all of that time they had tried to remain as the closest of friends. It was obvious that he was trying to convince himself that the reason for his decision was all because of one reason or another.

Truth was, he was scared. He was scared that he was going to die and leave her side once and for all, and that he'd leave her in ruins if he left this world without her. He was afraid that she'd live her life, loving only him and no other, even after he was gone. He was fearful for her safety, and knew that he didn't want to feel responsible for any more deaths. By now, being named the cause for every problem that exists, being called a murderer by family and friends, had drained him in such a way that he felt through with it. No more hurt, and no more people risking their lives for a cause only one man can detour. That was all he wanted, although he doubted that everyone would just allow the battle to begin, that others would just allow the two major heads on each side to collide and finish what started two decades ago.

He wanted her to duck out of the firing range, to push him into the path of bullets, to hate him. Still… never once did she speak those vile words. Never once did she tell him that she hated him and wanted him to die.

All she ever said to him was "I love you", "I love you", "I love you".

"Hate me", he ordered softly, his tired yet emotionless eyes showing the depression he had done so well to suppress after all this time. Tears were starting to fall down his face, and he did absolutely nothing to stop them. The hurt had been too great to hide any longer, and he too was beginning to break down underneath the pressure his heartache was placing upon him. No longer could he hide behind his mask. It had slipped and fallen long ago- at least, it seemed like hours had passed due to the pain, but he knew it had only been moments before- and it just wasn't going anywhere back.

Her soft and silk-like hands moved over my cheeks, caressing the damp canvas where clear streaks of heartache had gone down. The look in her eyes- so broken and alone- had ripped his inside into thousands of piece, and only her forgiveness could heal such a broken man. She then repeated the words he loved so much, yet hated at the exact some time, but the words were coming out with difficulty. Her endless sobs were causing them to come out in different breaths, unable to say the entire phrase without the break down. "I-" Sniff. Sob. Sob. Gasp. Sob. "Lo-" Sniff. Sniff. Sob. Cry. Sob. Sob. "-ou." Her damp chocolate eyes had fallen to his chest, her arms encircling his waist, holding onto his unmoving form the tightest a weak woman could. It had taken his entire effort not to wrap his own about her, not to hold her close to him and kiss all of her tears away.

It had taken all his effort not to say "I love you too".

Never once did she reach up and slap him as hard as he needed to be, if only just to make him see the truth behind all the lies he had been forcing upon her. As much as he needed her to, she never did and he could only feel worse because of her inaction. He was the villain for once in his life, and yet he did not like the change. His villainy was towards someone he did not want to hurt, who'd he give his life to save, who he was currently trying to push away for her own happiness. How could he be playing the role of evil villain and valiant hero all at once though? As improbable as it'd seem, he, the Boy-Who-Lived, was being almost as bad as Voldemort was to him.

Except Voldemort hadn't ever broken the heart of the woman he loved, or else he would have been reformed into an upright wizarding citizen by now. And that alone was what made Harry Potter, the man known as savior to so many and more, so much more eviler than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

He only stood there now, his emerald eyes piercing into the wall across from them, letting her hold onto him and sob. His arms kept rising from his sides, attempting to console her without his mind holding him back, but then they would fall back to their former places, hanging like a dead man's arms, remembering that he couldn't take hold of her and hold her close until her sobs would subside. He couldn't say that he was sorry, or that he loved her too much to risk her safety, couldn't tell her the truth behind his actions. Besides, it was in his future to either live or die, or to follow his enemy to the underworld. And, personally, he could not allow her to go through such heartache if his death did indeed occur. That was why he was subjecting her to his choice to leave her, why he was making himself pretend not to love her as much as he did.

And pretending, although quite easy when one is considerably younger, was the hardest thing he had ever accomplished- but, at least, he had made her believe such a lie, and that was all he could ask for.

He tried to step back, did his best to step away from her whether he wanted to hold her in his arms or not, but she would not allow her out from her arms, and he could feel his heart shatter within his chest all over again. Why was she doing this when all she was fighting for would be leaving the next morning, without her knowledge? Why did she fight so hard for someone that swore to not love her, when they had spent nights together proclaiming that they adored each other and that they wanted nothing more than to live their lives, or what was left of them, showing one another their feelings.

But, as he tried to step away again, she let him go, obviously giving up on keeping him close to her. Devastated with that knowledge, she had fallen to her knees, sobbing into her hands as he stepped a step farther away from her. What could he do when all he wanted was to make her hit him as hard as she could? How could he ever convince her to let him go and live a life without loving him as much as he knew she did now? He didn't know, and, as he watched her cry her heart out before him, he knew that he was as heartbroken as a man could get.

He barely felt the tears of his own heartache upon his cheeks. Harry could barely feel the deep-set frown upon his face when all he could feel was the smile he was trying to force upon his features. "I'm s-sorry, Hermione", he whispered to the air, holding back the hard throb within his chest the best he could- which ended up being nothing at all. Like always he was lying to her, and it seemed to hurt him more than it did her.

Slowly, he tried to turn around, but the sounds of her tears echoed in his ears- such hateful things as they tended to be about now. He had hurt her so horribly, so deep, that it was a wonder if she could ever love him or say that she did, but she said the words she had repeated for the entire night the best she could. "I- I will-" She was holding herself from sobbing any harder, any louder, and he could hear that in her voice alone- and it was killing him more and more. "- a-always l-love y-you", she finally said, once more dissolving into tears, and Harry's hand merely touched the doorframe before he stopped. Currently, as tears would flow from his glistening emerald orbs, he wondered how much more torment he would have to go through before God would strike him dead.

And it was then that he couldn't help but remember lyrics from a song that he had remembered playing once upon her portable muggle device called an iPod (since it had been docked with speakers attached to it), which her mum and dad had gotten her that last Christmas. Come to think of it, that had been when he had started to pull away from her…

_I don't wanna fall to pieces_

_I just wanna sit and stare at you I don't wanna talk about it _

_And I don't wanna conversation_

_I just wanna cry in front of you_

_I don't wanna talk about it_

_Cause I'm in love with you_

As he remembered the chorus of the song, he could see in his inner eye that the author of those lyrics were probably in Hermione's position at one time, and it killed him all over again to know that he was causing that same pain to the woman he loved. So, as he began to walk again out the door, he softly whispered the words to the wind, to himself, that gave her hope as the breeze came her way, that made her sobs lessen somewhat as he silently walked out from her life- quite possibly forever or for the time being.

"Wait for me, Hermione… I love you too much to get you murdered…"

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**Orokid**_: So… what did you guys think? Click the purple-blue button below and tell me your thoughts, whether they be bad or good. I'm open to suggestions on this piece, so… go for it! Lol._

_So, just in case you didn't catch what I was meaning… review!_


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